Planning on An Ego
Planning in the "Age of Disaster" with Eliot Spitzer, nonetheless. And, Stefan Sagmeister, DK Holland and Paula Scher try to reign in their egos by talking about them.
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Planning in the "Age of Disaster" with Eliot Spitzer, nonetheless. And, Stefan Sagmeister, DK Holland and Paula Scher try to reign in their egos by talking about them.
While there are some things that I can do well, I often find myself doing things that, on the onset I knew I could do, but it turns out I couldn't. But, if prior experience is all that counts, we would have never gotten to moon.
So I cluelessness is fine, not that ignorance is bliss, but ignorance is my only justification for learning.
Through this "long, hard slog" it's nice to have some old tunes for companionship, especially on rib-to-rib MRT rides. Busted this one out as part of a mix CD I made for the car (no, no one's gotten me an iTrip yet) that had the theme "Happy Place, Happy Place" -- an antidote to the tough Manila driving. It's still hasn't been burned, but the lineup looks pretty good.
Jonatha Brooke, like the Oracle, has been with us since the beginning. I had a chance to see her in Philly, but dowsed it upon hearing it was at a sixties-styled cafe in a place where buses stop running after 10. She would croak, and tease, on live performances, which intrigued me. But if she's alone with her guitar (without a band), I didn't think it was worth it.
Brooke reminds me of what I like about folk music: it makes you feel good before tearing your heart out. You see, there's Ryan Adams, there's Wilco, and then there's "So Much Mine," which informs the listener that regret, which Adams does excruciatingly well, can come in a form of saltwater taffy.
Listen.
This has made it more difficult, albeit more interesting, to find music to listen to. Lately, I've been stuck going back and forth through Sparklehorse, Ryan Adams, Wilco and The New Radicals (the latter, through an invitation from my brother). Adams, who is rumored to have enough songs written for eight more albums, is a bit of Bruce, a bit of Bob Dylan, and a lot of everything brokenhearted and Western. Of course, his work is lyrical and intelligent given the high-calorie subject matter.
Then, as if to deflect age, I started listening to The Killers. It may be too late, but Wilco's as old as dirt anyway. I've begun to, also possibly to deny charity for my wrinkles, pay more attention to local pop culture. I'm not talking about badminton, but rather, John Lloyd and Bea Alonzo. The other night I took in "Now That I Have You" without the slightest bit of reluctance.
Normally, yes, normally, I would loathe spending more than 15 minutes over such fare; this one was unusually entertaining (maybe it was because I really had nothing better to do or that it was set against a backdrop of MRT-commuting individuals, and somehow reinforcing my new membership). At any rate, it held my attention, considering "Batman and Robin" and "Cold Mountain" were the other options.
More importantly, I have, through searching for ad reels to present in class, recently found Jose Gonzalez. His cover of Heartbeats, used for Sony's famous Bravia commercial, is quite unforgettable. Iron and Wine-ish, yes, but it sounds old enough to remind me of how simple it was to be eight years old.
Check it out.
And if you're feeling like an irreverent treat, try this epicurean fantasy.